


Naked

by hyperion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames tries to get Arthur naked, with mixed results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked

Eames had once dated an art student who, during a nude photography session with Eames as the model, explained to him the difference between _naked_ and _nude_. Nudity was being without clothes for an audience and nakedness was being without clothes for no audience. Eames, who simply liked being in some state of undress with an attractive person because it usually meant sex, had not cared enough to research these claims, but the idea stuck in the Random Bits of Stuff section of his brain.

He thought of it immediately upon seeing Arthur for the first time. “I’m Arthur,” the younger man said simply, holding out his hand, and every thought in Eames’ head deserted him except one question: Arthur naked or nude? Somehow his body acted on autopilot and shook Arthur’s hand while his mouth surprised him with a rather steady, “Eames,” instead of the maddening question ricocheting around his skull.

Eames honestly had no recollection of the first conversation he had had with Arthur and Cobb about his skills and how they would relate to the job. He had very clear memories of all the ways he had imagined Arthur naked during that conversation. It bothered him still that he could not remember it, because observation was ninety percent of his job and he was the best at what he did; also, Eames must have said something obnoxious because Arthur seemed to resent him thereafter.

He managed to behave himself (more often than not) on early training missions and jobs. But when Arthur was guiding him through the process of subtly changing the dreamscape without alerting the mark, Eames could not help himself. He took the opportunity to remove Arthur’s clothes and counted the seconds to see how long it took Arthur to realize what had happened.

Of course, Arthur knew almost instantly, even though there were no drafts or breezes or anything else that might signal he had lost his clothes. In fact, the sensation of Arthur’s physical clothes should have made him feel as if he were still wearing clothes in the dream, so he would actually have to catch a glimpse of some part of his body to realize that Eames had done something. However, a second after Arthur lost his suit, Eames could see the muscles in Arthur’s jaw clench when he glared at Eames.

It was positively hilarious for exactly three seconds.

“Run,” Arthur spat.

Eames only had enough time to draw breath for a sound teasing before the first projection rounded the corner of the nearest building and launched itself at Eames. Arthur gave it a violent kick to the abdomen that sent it sprawling, and Eames finally understood that Arthur really was the best person to take point in a battle. He was sinuous, quiet power and his nudity only highlighted it instead of making him vulnerable. Another projection raced toward Eames and Arthur elbowed it in the face, breaking its nose and neck, and Arthur grabbed the gun out of its hands before it could fall. Eames was absolutely mesmerized by the movement of the muscles under Arthur’s skin.

“Run!” Arthur shouted at him, turning to face the onslaught of projections and firing at them. Eleven perfectly placed shots, eleven dead projections in the street, and Arthur released the clip as another appeared in his hand. The crowd parted around him and then swallowed him up as more and more projections joined.

Eames could still hear Arthur firing, then he heard Arthur shouting, as he ran away from the projections and reached into his holster for his own gun. A bullet zipped past too close and Eames ducked into an alley, making a note to always, always, always think of bigger guns when going under because he just could not think of anything else besides not dying right now.

The alley let out onto another street and Eames swore. The street was filling with projections and the projections behind him were closing in. He shot as many as he could, but one sprang out of the alley and wrapped its forearm around Eames’ throat, both choking him and holding him. Two more projections grabbed his arms, wrenching them painfully away from Eames’ body and opening him up for a fourth.

This projection was a man with rather large, serrated knife. Eames was struggling to breathe with the arm around his throat, but it was horrifyingly easy to scream when the knife plunged into his groin and sliced him all the way up.

Eames awoke with a cough, feeling like he was choking on blood. He sat up, hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly that his fingers were beginning to cramp, and he gasped trying to catch his breath. The moment – the exact second – that his breathing calmed, Arthur punched him in the face.

He shook his head to clear it, raising a hand to his mouth to staunch the blood spilling from his lip. Eames watched Arthur walk away and then looked at Cobb who was frowning all the way up to his hair.

“So…” Eames said for lack of anything better.

Cobb sighed and pulled a few tissues out of the box on the work table and handed them to Eames. “If you work with us again, there are few things you should know. The most pertinent for you right now is that if Arthur punches someone in the face, I’m not even going to question it.”

It was ten months later that he worked with Cobb and Arthur again. Everything went smoothly for the job. Arthur was still resentful, with a splash of condescension now, but they could work together easily enough. They were in a mid-range hotel, getting ready to split up after the completion of the job.

Eames was sitting in a chair in his room, having a drink while he came back to reality. It was a process that he needed to go through, if time allowed. Sit down, have a glass or two of something warm, and let his mind get back in the right place. He happened to notice movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to find that the door connecting his and Arthur’s room was open a crack.

Arthur had insisted on changing clothes, having spent more time than he was comfortable with in one suit. Eames supposed they all had their ways to unwind, but it did not stop him from teasing Arthur about being prissy. Now Eames was glad that Arthur had wanted to change, because he got to see Arthur in the flesh. All of his flesh, for that matter.

Gaping, Eames stared as Arthur walked to the closet and removed the clothes he wanted and laid them on the bed. The times that Eames had imagined Arthur naked and when Eames had stripped him in his dream did not compare to this.

This was Arthur completely unaware of his audience, acting as if he were alone. He did not have to glower at Eames or plan with Cobb. There was no way that he was supposed to behave, and Eames could tell the difference in his stance, the way that he rested one hand on his hip as he decided which tie should be hidden under the sweater, the way that he scratched a random itch at his ribs.

Eames had seen plenty of strippers in his day, but the ordinary way that Arthur put his clothes on ruined him for the clubs. Eames held his breath as each leg disappeared into the trousers – Arthur had not even bothered to put on underwear – and then as the skin of Arthur’s chest disappeared when he buttoned the shirt. He continued to watch until Arthur lifted the sweater over his head, until Arthur just happened to notice Eames watching.

To this day, Eames would swear that he actually heard Arthur growl before he pulled the sweater down.

Then Arthur stalked over to the door. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re beautiful.” He had not even meant to say it, but he supposed it answered the question well enough.

Arthur clearly had expected something sardonic. His expression softened for a moment with his surprise, but quickly hardened again. He shut the door and locked it. Eames decided that if Arthur was going to be mad at him for watching him dress, it was his own fault for not shutting the door properly the first time.

Eames only had the opportunity to ruffle Arthur verbally over the next year. It was banter, just some fun to break up otherwise dull days of planning. It was nowhere near as satisfying as the fantasies that Eames had been entertaining about Arthur. It was just his luck that the chance he had to live out one of those fantasies involved gunfire.

Something that Eames had not mentioned to his coworkers was that he owed money to several people, most of whom did not care if they got their money back or Eames’ head, as long as they got it soon. They were in Paris again, and Eames narrowly avoided being shot by diving into the Seine. This would not be a problem in itself, had it not been February. Luckily, Eames had lost his tail and the warehouse was not far from where he climbed out of the river.

Arthur was working on something, whatever it was that he did, when Eames shivered his way into the room. “Jesus, Eames, what happened?”

“Money,” he chattered, tripping his way over to the couch.

“God, you’re going to catch pneumonia like that.” He actually sounded concerned.

“Not if the hypothermia gets me first,” he replied as he struggled to wrap the blanket from the back of the couch around himself.

Arthur was kneeling in front him, a warm hand on his clammy cheek. He looked rather appalled at Eames’ condition, and he stood back up for a moment to move the space heater closer. Then he was trying to take Eames’ blanket away. “No, I need it,” he fought weakly, but Arthur easily overpowered him.

Arthur stripped the blanket away, pulled Eames’ shirt off of him, and worked him out of his wet shoes, socks, and pants. Arthur was able to get himself naked much more quickly and then he wrapped both of them up in the blanket, lying chest to chest on the couch.

“I knew you wanted me,” Eames said thickly.

“Conserve body heat by keeping your mouth closed.”

“Keep my mouth warm by kissing it,” Eames countered.

“You can do that just as well by kissing my ass.”

“Well, it is a cute ass.” Arthur did not reply to that, and Eames shuddered through a yawn.

“No, no, no. No going to sleep.”

“But I’m tired,” Eames said as he closed his eyes.

Arthur wanted to slap Eames, but his movements were restricted by the small space. “Look at me, Eames. Eames? Eames! You have the smallest cock I have ever seen,” Arthur shouted at him.

“What?” Eames eyes opened again. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Doesn’t make it untrue.”

“I’m cold and wet. Things shrink.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

“When I’m warm again, I’ll show you just how big my cock is.”

“Really? All three inches of it?”

“It’s eight at least.”

“Sorry, I forgot you measured in metric.”

“Fuck you, sweetheart.”

“Eames, if there is any fucking between the two of us, I’ll be fucking you.”

Eames was quiet again for long enough that Arthur thought he might actually have to slap him. “This isn’t going as I planned,” he said finally.

“You planned hypothermia?” Arthur questioned.

“No, I planned to eventually seduce you with quick and witty remarks about my sexual prowess, but I seem to have run out of quick and witty.”

“Hmm, speaking long and complex sentences now and you’re not shivering quite so hard. I think you’ll survive.”

Eames was bone-weary, but he was starting to feel better. So much so that he took advantage of the situation and kissed Arthur. His lips were hot and soft, and Eames breathed in Arthur’s warm breath as Arthur pulled away.

“No?” Eames asked, a little afraid of Arthur punching him in the face again.

“Just concentrate on warming up, Eames.”

“If I say something right now, can we blame it on the confused ramblings of the hypothermic?”

“Sure.”

It was a thought that he had not had in quite some time, but he was obsessed with it once again and in the position to get away with it. “Nude or naked?”

Arthur answered quickly, “Nude. Sounds more dignified.”

Eames did, in fact, contract pneumonia. Cobb demanded that he strictly follow the doctor’s orders so that he could recover as quickly as possible, but the first two weeks showed very little progress. Arthur discovered that Eames had been smoking, and he practically moved himself in with Eames to force him to be a model patient.

Two weeks later, Eames was feeling nearly one hundred percent and the doctor had said that his lungs were almost completely free of fluid. Full recovery was imminent, and Eames was getting antsier by the day out of sheer boredom and having Arthur so close. In fact, Arthur had grown quite comfortable around Eames, as evidenced by the fact that he often walked out of the bathroom in only a towel after showering. This was not helping Eames’ discomfort.

Out of desperation, he called out to Arthur, “Would you just fuck me already?” as he walked by Eames’ bedroom fresh from a shower.

Arthur stopped in the doorway and scowled in response.

“You said you’d fuck me. I’m tired of waiting.”

Arthur shook his head slightly. “I stated that if fucking should occur, then I would be the one fucking you. That was not a guarantee of services.”

Eames looked at Arthur dolefully. “Arthur, love, you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy since the moment I met you. I don’t even remember what we talked about because all I could think about was you, and it’s been that way ever since. It’s been two years now, and I still can’t get you out of my head.”

Arthur looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Eames’ eyes again. “I don’t just fuck around, Eames. I’ve done that, and I’d rather have something more. I want something real.”

“I’ve wanted you for two years, Arthur. Isn’t that real enough?”

The way that Arthur looked at him then, tentative and wanting but ultimately unsure, Eames realized that he was finally seeing Arthur truly naked. “If you try to make a joke out of this, I will kill you.”

“I believe you.”

Arthur stepped into the room, dropping the towel on the floor. Eames was already naked under the blankets, so there was no time wasted getting undressed. Arthur pulled the blankets away and crawled on top of Eames, planting a soft kiss on his neck.

“The doctor said you weren’t contagious anymore, right? Please tell me I didn’t imagine that.”

“No contagions to be had, my dear.”

“I don’t want to make this worse by overtaxing you, so the first sign that you’re not okay, I stop.”

“I think I might actually die if you stop now.”

Arthur pressed his mouth to Eames’, getting an eager response out of the other man. The last time that this had happened, Arthur could not believe how cold Eames was, almost afraid that Eames would never get warm. Now Eames was delightfully as hot as Arthur was, and Arthur was shocked at how close he came to losing Eames, breath caught in his throat.

Eames took advantage of Arthur’s recent shower by running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. Until the past two weeks, he had never seen Arthur without his hair perfectly styled. His other hand went to Arthur’s hip, thumb running up the bone lying beneath the thin flesh. Eames realized that he wanted all of Arthur; from the perfect, crisp suits to the dirty, messy corners of Arthur’s mind, and all the soft, wet marrows and sinews in between.

Arthur pulled away and sat on Eames’ hips, fitting perfectly against the angle of Eames’ dick. He rocked his hips against Eames, who groaned and reached for Arthur, but Arthur batted his hands away when one went toward Arthur’s cock. Eames set his hands on Arthur’s thighs instead, sinking his fingers into hard muscles as Arthur worked on him.

Arthur placed his hands on Eames’ shoulders, watching them as they came closer together as they moved down Eames’ chest, ribs, and waist. It was a slow process, but efficient, and though it was not intrinsically sexual, Eames found it to be incredibly hot because it seemed as if Arthur were memorizing every inch of Eames’ body. He would never be able to watch Arthur focus on any other task again, because the crease between his eyebrows and the set of his mouth would only remind Eames of this.

When Arthur arrived at Eames’ lower abdomen where Arthur’s own thighs were currently splayed open, he took Eames’ hands in his own and brought one to his mouth so he could draw in one finger and suck it. Eames watched and felt and moaned thinking about Arthur’s mouth elsewhere, moving his hips to rub against Arthur’s ass. It only took him a few moments to realize that Arthur was doing this on purpose, trying and succeeding in driving Eames crazy, forcing him to think about what Arthur wanted him to think about.

Arthur, of course, knew when Eames caught on, and he smiled at Eames as he let the finger slip from his mouth.

“Lube and condoms in the drawer,” Eames directed.

Arthur stretched over him to open the bedside table’s drawer. He found condoms of varying sizes and chose carefully. “We’re going to have a talk about this drawer one day.”

“Want me all to yourself, do you?”

“I’m a jealous lover,” Arthur said casually as he moved off of Eames’ hips and between his legs. “How much prep do you need?”

Eames settled more comfortably into his pillows. “Not much. That should be enough,” he said as Arthur squeezed the jelly onto two fingers. Soon those fingers were pressing into Eames, searching deeply. Eames gasped and drew his leg up closer to his body to give Arthur better access.

“You feel wonderful,” Arthur told him. Eames reached for his own cock this time, and again Arthur prevented him from doing it. Arthur shook his head, once to the left, once to the right, and then center. “No.”

“Are you really going to keep me waiting any bloody longer?”

Arthur did not reply, but instead he held eye contact with Eames while he took longer than he had originally intended. When he felt that he had made his point, Arthur pulled his fingers away from Eames’ body and opened the condom packet, rolling it onto himself. He positioned himself above Eames, guiding himself in.

Eames’ mouth instantly dropped open and he moaned lowly the whole way in, grunting softly when Arthur was seated inside him. “Are you okay?” Arthur asked, leaning down to nip Eames’ ear. Eames nodded, turning his head to kiss whatever part of Arthur he could reach. At the feel of lips on his jaw, Arthur turned too and kissed Eames’ mouth, hips pulling back and thrusting sharply inside again so he could swallow up the noise that Eames made.

Eames was very vocal, letting wordless sounds be pushed out of him by Arthur. He drew his leg up around Arthur’s waist to have more purchase to participate instead of just laying there. Arthur finally let him put his hands where he wanted when he wrapped his arms around Arthur, who was a steady piston, slowly increasing in speed and force as Eames continued to pull them together and cry out with the sensation.

“When you’re healthy, I’m going to press you face-first into the mattress and fuck you hoarse.”

“You could do that now, love,” Eames responded, shifting his leg higher to let Arthur sink a little deeper.

“Give it a few more days,” Arthur promised, shifting his weight to one hand so that he could reach down and stroke Eames’ cock. Eames had been so enthralled by Arthur that he had not realized how close his own body was to the edge. With Arthur’s hand on him, he could feel the familiar pull of his orgasm building.

Arthur was getting close too, and Eames could tell by the way his hips were not quite so steady. One of the thrusts caught Eames’ prostate, and Eames was yelling out his orgasm. Arthur was close behind him and the feel of Eames tightening around him sent Arthur into his own orgasm, hips stuttering short and sharp.

When it was over, Arthur collapsed down onto his forearm, taking a few final moments to enjoy the feel of Eames around him before he softened. With some effort, he pushed himself back up and pulled out of Eames, taking off the condom and dropping it in the wastebasket by the table. He then lay on the bed on his back, beside Eames, and stared up at the ceiling while catching his breath.

Arthur felt Eames shift, he blinked, and then his vision was filled with Eames’ unsure face. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is everything still okay between us?” Eames asked worriedly.

“Was it ever okay?”

“What I mean to say is, is everything the same between us?”

Arthur considered it for a moment, raising a hand to stroke Eames’ cheek and brush back his hair only to have it fall forward again. “I don’t know. Let’s try this: You’re obnoxious.”

“You’re fussy,” Eames complained.

“You dress like my grandmother’s wallpaper.”

“You need a good roll in the mud.”

“I’d say we’re fine,” Arthur determined.

“This could be really bad for business, you know, if we’re not fine.” The truth was, Eames had had a few serious relationships and they always frightened him in the beginning – and Arthur was terrifyingly serious.

Arthur pulled Eames down for a kiss goodnight, and Eames tucked himself to Arthur’s side when it was over. “I guess you’ll just have to act like an adult for once in your life,” Arthur mused.


End file.
